Miss Aida
Family and friends and promises and responsibilities. That's what my holiday has been full off. Meeting up with friends, familial obligations, same old, same old. I forget how much fun it is to meet up with old friends, high school friends whom you share a history with.

Having dinner with Azreen, Azlin, Nik and Nat was almost like old times. Girls going out. Having girly chats and reminiscing about our past. Very little has changed, chemistry wise. It's true, friends can always pick up where they left off. Things that have changed: We have cars. We've upgraded from McDs to slightly more upscale restaurants, although I swear once Chinese New Year rolls around I will be lining up for the Prosperity Burger as I usually do. We've matured, physically and mentally, and are well on the path of the women we will become. But our friendship still remains.

It was almost the same when Nik and I met up with Sujeyn, Jason and Wei Boon. Slight physical differences, as evidenced by Sujeyn not even recognizing us at first, but the faces that smiled back were comfortingly familiar. The gossip and the jokes, toned down, but Sujeyn was still his sarcastic, dramatic self, Jason and Wei Boon still retained their dry sense of humour and Nik and I, perhaps the most changed of all. But chemistry was still there, that shared sense of history that made us friends.

And yesterday, when we went to pick up my sister from a camping trip, I ended up staying in the car for two solid hours with my mum with no entertainment, no intention of going anywhere for the fear that the bus would arrive when we left, and no barriers. Never a good idea. DMNs with my mum, with our past history, despite my respect for her, always make me uncomfortable. I let her do the talking, as usual, listening to my rich family history, the twists and turns of family feuds and dramas and sagas that rivalled any fiction book I can recall. It was the passion, the human element that made things interesting, and although I know that the retelling was probably coloured with her own opinions, and perhaps not all things were the way they seemed, it was insight into her life. Insight that made me feel incredibly lucky that I grew up the way I did, and insight that made me understand why my mother felt strongly about certain relatives. As interesting as it was, I watched the clock with the discomfort of a person who knew how easily the tides would turn and prayed that she would not ask about my life.

Ayah came back from Germany today. My mum woke me up on that godforsaken hour to pick him up at the airport, I doubt I was good company at all. I just slept all the way to the airport. Waited for an hour and a half, which during the majority of that time, I tried very hard to not fall asleep, semi-unsuccessfully.

As my father walked into the waiting area, I was struck at how long his hair was. He's always had short, cropped hair, but it had grown longer, and the ends were starting the curl outwards. If he had left it for another month or so, I bet he would have one of those fantastic long wavy hairstyles with ends that curled out, a hairstyle more suited on one of those emo kids or surfer dudes than the straightlaced man my father is (He was even in a police inspector when he was younger! Ah, the exuberance of youth). I wondered if I could persuade him to leave it long. Germany seems to have suited him. He looked younger, by years, the laugh lines by his eyes more pronounced as he smiled at my mum. A smile that reminded me of youth, and softened my mother's face. A couple still in love. Happy. Reunited. The almost playful way they chattered in the car (or more correctly, my mum chattering away while my dad occasionally interjected). And I dreaded having to tell them the news.

I don't know how my parents are reacting to me telling them about my results. Their golden child flunking her exams. The crossroads of my life, and I still haven't had a chance to assess their reactions as they left to run the many errands they had to run. Circumstances that would have caused them disappointment. I'd rather face the their wrath than the steely edge of their sadness and disappointment. I'm not even sure if my mother can even bring herself to look at me. Please God, give me the strength to face their disappointment, and them the strength to accept my weaknesses and help me through them.

And my future still hangs on a thread.

I don't believe that failing makes you a failure. The optimist in me tells me that there are many other roads in life, and like other things, these circumstances are merely obstacles and tests that God has put in my path. And like the words of advice I've uttered so often to other people, God won't throw shit at you that you won't be able to handle. So I'll grow strong through this, and whatever the outcome, I believe that is the path that is best for me, even though it may differ from my original path.

It would be nice to be sure that I'm going to return and complete my degree in Melbourne, but that path is entirely up to the goodwill of my sponsors. I don't regret the events of my past, but those events are something that I must learn from. If I don't return to Melbourne, I will be crushed, but there are lessons to be learnt from every situation. We will see what happens... and we will see how I rise to the challenges I am going to face.
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